


Anything For You

by cecilkirk



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Choking, Jealousy, M/M, Pain Kink, Slapping, Smut, brallon, could this be tagged as a hate fuck? probably, literally just smut, sorry mom sorry god, top!dal, vices era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:11:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6354619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilkirk/pseuds/cecilkirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Envy was wanting what someone else had. Jealousy was fearing losing what one had to someone else.</p><p>Dallon was nothing if not jealous that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything For You

He watched it happen from across the bar.

Dallon had been away for maybe five minutes, outside to answer a phone call from some drunken friend he quickly ended after realizing he was impossible to understand. He had walked back in and saw Brendon where he'd been sitting--sitting with _him_ \--at the far end of the bar.

But now his seat was taken.

Someone tall and thin, and Dallon would be damned if they looked similar. His back was to Dallon, meaning Dallon could see Brendon's face perfectly--adoring, smirking, with swirling thoughts hid behind.

The guy was flirting with Brendon.

And he knew Brendon wasn't oblivious.

Just as Dallon begins to storm over, trying to keep his feet from stomping into the wood floor, the man leaves of his own volition. Brendon is left sitting wide-eyed and grinning sinfully, watching the man leave with a gaze longer than just being polite. It was avaricious, Dallon thought, the word burning in his mind. It was fucking _greedy_.

When Brendon snapped his focus from the stranger and up to Dallon's eyes, they widened, and the easy grin plummeted from his face to the wood floor beneath the both of them. Dallon watched his jaw clench, how the muscle pushed out the skin in an act of shame.

Dallon was going to revel in it.

 

 

 

"What the fuck was that, Urie?"

He licked his lips and dropped his jaw to answer, but Dallon didn't let him--he slammed the bedroom door, and the words died on his tongue as he jumped at the noise. High-strung, Dallon noticed. Fucking indicative of embarrassment and secrecy and deception.

Brendon's jaw clenched. Dallon felt a smirk creep across his lips, pulling the corner of his mouth up.

With slow, even steps, Dallon walked in front of Brendon, turned him around, and backed him up against the wall without a touch or command. It was all eyes. That's all he needed with Brendon.

He was the only one who had the luxury of ordering around Brendon this way.

The _only_ one.

"Take off your fucking clothes," Dallon spat. Immediately Brendon brought a hesitant hand to his collar, pulling off his bow tie with unsteady fingers. Dallon realized he was making Brendon nervous. He cocked his head and watched Brendon intently, smirking wider as he saw redness bloom across Brendon's cheeks.

But he didn't look away.

As Brendon methodically took off every article of clothing, he did not look away from Dallon's eyes. Dallon took this as the offer of apology, or the proof of innocence--if Brendon really had done something wrong, he would have looked away, blushed harder. And he hadn't.

Dallon watched the muscle jump in Brendon's jaw again.

He didn't believe him for a fucking second.

"Don't you ever fucking do that again," Dallon growled.

Brendon blinked, eyes flickering. "Do what?"

Dallon gritted his teeth at Brendon's blatant fucking lie. He stared at Brendon, and he'd be damned if he didn't see Brendon blush harder.

With one quick step, he is almost flush against Brendon, their faces nearly touching, hands ghosting over Brendon's hips. He can feel Brendon twitch in anticipation, the electricity of desire and impatience alive in his skin. He licks his lips with nothing more than a dart of tongue, and he catches Brendon's eyes drop to his tongue. Bitterness floods through Dallon's veins. He was going to make sure Brendon never forgot who he belonged to. Never again.

In one swift movement he lowers his lips to Brendon's neck and grabs his cock firmly, feeling a moan reverberate against his lips. He lets his mouth trail along Brendon's skin, not giving him the pleasure of full contact, keeping himself a hair breadth's distance away. Just enough to make him want more. Just enough to drive him crazy.

"So," Dallon mutters into the hot skin of Brendon's throat, "five minutes was enough, was it? Enough to forget me?"

Brendon swallows, and Dallon loves how the brief protuberance of skin against his mouth feels. He aches to scrape the skin with his teeth."W-what?" Brendon chokes out in a shaky, tenuous voice, desire pitching it higher than usual.

Dallon pulls back, grabbing Brendon's face with both hands, thumbs firm on his cheek bones, and peers into his eyes. He puts his knee between Brendon's legs and Brendon lets a whine drip out between his lips.

"Doesn't take long for you to forget who you're with, does it," Dallon states rather than asks. He's done trying to get Brendon's side of it; he knows what it is. He looks down his nose at Brendon, whose eyes are wide, jaw dropped with an unsubtle part of his lips. Sweat is making his hair do as it pleases, sticking up in odd clumps and angles when Dallon removes his hands from Brendon's head. He can feel the light coat of Brendon's sweat on his palms. He wipes them down Brendon's chest, slowly, rougher than necessary.

"Are you jealous?" he whispers, tilting his chin up toward Dallon, offering his jaw like some pride-soaked penance.

"No," Dallon growls, kicking away Brendon's pile of clothes. "I'm envious."

Anger bubbles thick and hot in Dallon's chest, dripping down his veins, pooling in his fingers. He wanted nothing more than to teach Brendon a lesson, make sure he  _never_ fucking forgot.

Through the few sweaty strands of hair that cover his eyes, Brendon peers up at Dallon. He catches the smirk curl up the corner of his lip, ridiculing Dallon. Dallon's fingers feel leaden with everything he wants to do to Brendon. 

He can see Brendon fucking clench his jaw again.

It sends Dallon over the edge.

He jerks his head over to the pile of clothes, now a few feet away.

"Pick up your belt," Dallon spits. Brendon does as he's told, taking his time. Pride, it was all pride, disrespect, disloyalty. Dallon could feel his elbows aching to flex, to strike Brendon across the face, to show him what he needed to learn through pain. He knew those lessons always stuck best with Brendon. 

Brendon holds his belt out to Dallon, and he takes it, grabbing Brendon's shoulders and whipping him around so fast Brendon stumbles. Brendon laughs out a "Whoa there, easy," but it only makes Dallon tie his wrists together quicker. He grabs Brendon's shoulders again, turning him back around so they faced each other. He shoves Brendon back against the wall, and he hears Brendon moan, something low and guttural as his bare back scrapes the popcorn walls. Dallon rests his hand in Brendon's hair for a moment before grabbing a fistful and yanking his head back, scratching skin on the wall. Brendon's arms flex behind his back--he wants to grab Dallon's arm, make him pull harder, hurt him more.

Dallon won't give him the satisfaction.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Dallon mutters, tracing a finger along Brendon's cheekbone. "Did you think I wouldn't come back inside?"

Dallon drops one hand from Brendon's hair, letting the other leave light trails across his face. Brendon tried to lean into the touch and whined when Dallon pulled away. Nothing frustrated Brendon more than the absence of full contact.

Dallon smirked.

"Not going to answer me?"

Brendon looked up at him with wide, vibrant eyes, mouth so attractively agape. 

"Got nothing to say," he whispered.

Dallon squinted his eyes at him. He scraped a fingernail against the prominent bone of Brendon's cheek, and Brendon inhaled sharply.

He pulled his hand away and slapped Brendon across the face, full force. Brendon turned to face Dallon again after a few moments to compose himself. He rolled his shoulders back and lifted his chin, tacitly begging for more. Dallon watched as the skin turned red, undoubtedly raw and painful.

He wouldn't give Brendon the satisfaction.

Dallon instead brought his fingertips down lightly on Brendon's cheek for a moment before trailing down to his throat. He slowly wrapped his fingers around his vertebrae, thumb parallel with his windpipe. In anticipation, Brendon let out a high, pathetic, breathy whine. It buzzed around Dallon's fingers. 

"Do you know what you did wrong?" Dallon growls.

Brendon's breaths are short and shallow, even without Dallon applying any pressure. God, he was fucking loving this. "No," he chokes out as Dallon lightly thumbs his throat, dragging his nail across his skin.

"Need to teach you, don't I?" Dallon asks, voice orotund and thick, full of the sincerity he was feigning--the kind that made Brendon's knees buckle. Dallon pushed him back against the wall with the hand on Brendon's neck. Brendon hissed in pleasure, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment.

But Brendon opens his eyes and stares back at Dallon, recomposing himself and licking his lips. "Do you?"

Dallon sees Brendon's jaw clench as he smirks, and he can see the flickering reaction of Brendon delighting in how much his cheek hurts from the grin.

The anger floods back into Dallon's veins. He drops his hand from Brendon's throat.

"Get on the fucking bed," he growls. Brendon takes all the time he wants.

Without a word, Dallon commands Brendon to kneel, sitting on his heels. Confusion quickly passes over his features, and Dallon loves it. He takes the belt off from Brendon's wrists, tossing it on the floor. 

"You're not going to move," Dallon growls, words sharp and heavy. His face is close to Brendon's, close enough to kiss. But he won't. He won't give Brendon the satisfaction.

Brendon nods. No snarky retort--something was coming apart behind Brendon's facade. Dallon smirked again and raised his hand. He saw Brendon's eyes light up.

He slaps Brendon the same side he already had, and the redness spreads much more quickly, turns a much darker shade. Brendon has begun fisting the sheets to keep from reaching up to Dallon, to make him hurt himself more, to egg on the pain. 

Kneeling on the bed at full height, Dallon towers over Brendon. Brendon looks up at him and swallows, eyes wide and imploring.

"Please," he chokes out on nothing but air, nothing more than a whisper. "Again."

Dallon does, bringing his arm much further back. The crack of skin on skin fills the bedroom. It's shortly followed by Brendon sucking in a breath. 

Brendon won't look at him, and he wonders if he struck Brendon too hard. He can see a tear roll down his inflamed cheek and more rest in his eyes, waiting to fall.

"Again," Brendon implores. But with tears in Brendon's eyes, Dallon can't do it.

But he wasn't about to let Brendon skip out on his lesson.

"On your back," Dallon says, clearly and louder than necessary. The blood drains from Brendon's face. He does what he is told.

Dallon spreads Brendon's knees apart and pushes himself between, feeling Brendon's cock hard against his thigh. He bends over Brendon and puts his hand on Brendon's throat again, their faces close. Tears are leaking out of Brendon's eyes, forced out and down his cheeks by gravity.

"You will never flirt with anyone again," Dallon spits, trying to anticipate Brendon's reaction. He may have gone too far.

Brendon lifts his back, releasing a hand, and puts it around Dallon's wrist. "If you say so."

He smirks at Dallon. Nothing but a fucking tease.

Dallon straddles Brendon's hips, feeling Brendon's cock through his slacks. Brendon moans at the contact, dropping his hand from Dallon's, tipping his chin up, inviting Dallon's fingers to tighten around his throat.

Dallon will not give him the satisfaction.

Instead, he kneels above Brendon, shoving down his pants and boxers halfway down his thighs, and sits. With his eyes, he commands Brendon to straddle him.

Brendon does not hesitate to do so.

"Did you really think I was going to do what you wanted?" Dallon breathes into his neck, hands digging into Brendon's hips.

"I-- _fuck_ ," Brendon cries out as Dallon lowers him onto his cock. "Fuck, fuck," he whispers, head tipping back.

"Did you think I was going to choke you? After all you did to me tonight?"

Dallon presses his fingernails into the bones of Brendon's hips, and he can hear Brendon's breath hitch. "No, no, I--"

Dallon bucks up into Brendon, and his hands cling to Dallon's biceps, trying to dig his nails through the shirt.

"Did you think I was going to let you get away with making me jealous?"

Dallon's lips are on Brendon's jaw now. He can feel his jaw clench, the muscle thick and begging to be bit. Brendon's cock pokes into his stomach, wet and hot against his shirt. He's dying to feel it against his skin.

"I wasn't-- _shit_ ," Brendon cries out as Dallon pulls Brendon down onto him, their thighs meeting with a slap. "I wasn't trying to make you jealous," he breathes out, high, whiny, breathy, and pathetic.

"Oh, you weren't, were you?" Dallon growls rhetorically, now pressing his left hand's nails into Brendon's thigh. Brendon's head drops to Dallon's shoulder, shuddering and gasping.

"No," Brendon chokes out. "I was mak-- _fuck_ " he gasps as Dallon bucks into him again. "I w-was making you envious," he stammers.

"Envious of what?" Dallon demands sharply, fingers loosening on Brendon's thigh and hip. 

Brendon sucks in a few breaths before responding:

"Him," he whines, breath hot down Dallon's shoulder blades. "I didn't want you to fear losing me. I wanted you to want me because he had me."

Brendon pulls his head back, looking at Dallon. Dallon reaches up and puts his hand in Brendon's hair. For a moment, Brendon thinks Dallon may kiss him. But he does something even better instead: knotting his fingers in Brendon's hair and yanking it back.

From there it's quick fucking and Brendon's helpless moans as Dallon comes in him. Brendon was so close the whole time (Dallon could fucking  _feel_ it), and it only takes ten seconds of jerking him off before he comes all over Dallon's chest and stomach, ruining his shirt.

"You're a fucking asshole, Urie," Dallon mutters as Brendon slides off his hips, staring in disgust at his shirt. He could never get it clean.  _Fuck_.

Brendon lays back on his elbows, panting, face flushed, with the biggest fucking smug grin Dallon could fathom.

"Anything for you."


End file.
